


Just For Kicks

by buddyonacloud



Category: Blur (Band), Oasis (Band)
Genre: Football/Soccer Match, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, One Night Stands, blowjob, enemies to lovers (kinda), handjobs, hatefuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 22:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20397496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buddyonacloud/pseuds/buddyonacloud
Summary: «Don’t flatter yourself. You’re alright. For a man.»«You’re not too bad yourself, Gallagher. Especially when you shut up.»





	Just For Kicks

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO I've been a huge fan of Blur, Oasis and the whole 90s Britpop scene for years and I'd always wanted to write something about it... if you ask me, that whole Blur/Oasis feud reeked of homoerotic tension, so of course they would be my main targets for a fic! This is also my first time writing smut and I think it shows, but I'm still quite pleased of how it all came out (no pun intended).
> 
> DISCLAIMER: the Nordoff-Robbins charity football match actually happened but what came next is, of course, all a product of my torbid imagination. Also, English is not my first language, so any grammar fuck-ups you might encounter along the way can be traced back to that.
> 
> Having said that... enjoy!

_It’s for a good cause_ – Damon kept repeating to himself as he walked out of the locker room and into the field, his heart pounding.  
His entrance was greeted by an uproar that made him feel even more uncomfortable and as he looked around him while clutching his water bottle he realised that most of the crowd was made up of teenage girls, an audience to which he should have been used by now – being in one of the top British bands of the decade and whatnot – and yet still made him feel like something he was not.

He wouldn’t call himself a fraud, not exactly, but he knew that the role of pop idol had been bestowed upon him mainly because of the way he looked. It wasn’t a matter of merit as much as a matter of pure genetic luck and that alone was enough to make him wrinkle his nose.  
He was well aware of the privilege that comes with being considered conventionally attractive, but there were still days when he just wished he looked a bit more… plain.

Today was one of those days.

It was a charity gig, a friendly football match between some of the most famous names in the music industry, set up to raise 150.000 pounds for the Nordoff-Robbins music therapy charity.

He recognised Jarvis Cocker and Robbie Williams, whose team had played before his, and he went to say hi to them.

He wasn’t really friends with either of them but without any of his band members around he was starting to feel a bit vulnerable.

«Well well, look what the cat brought.»

Jarvis said with a smirk.

«Hey, Jarvis. Haven’t seen you around much since that whole Brits debacle.»

«Yeah… I’m not allowed near the event for the next ten years, or so they say.»

«Wow, that’s a bit harsh.»

Jarvis shrugged.

«Yeah well it’s their loss, really.»

«Hey, Albarn! Have you seen Gallagher? He looks like a right twat with that bucket hat on!»

Damon gritted his teeth as Robbie greeted him by putting his arm around his shoulders.

«No I haven’t, actually.»

«Well, you just wait. I ran into Patsy on the way here and it’s just… wow. How can a woman like _that_ be with someone like him, I’ll never understand.»

«You’ll find that crudeness can be quite charming, if paired with a sizeable cock.»

Damon looked at Jarvis in disbelief. God, that man was weird.  
No wonder he’d been arrested back at the Brits, right after he’d jumped on stage and mooned Michael Jackson during his Earth Song performance.  
Not that Jacko didn’t deserve it, that megalomaniac creep, but still…

«Speak of the devil...»

Jarvis smirked again while looking behind Damon, who turned around just in time to receive an entirely gratuitous pinch on the bum by Liam, who had entered the scene with his usual swagger.

«Oi Albarn, ready to lose?»

Damon forced himself to smile, mainly for the benefit of all the cameras surrounding them.

«As ready as you are.»

Liam made a noise that was supposed to be a laughter but sounded more like a snarl before putting his hand on the back of Damon’s neck, pulling his face uncomfortably close to his. 

«Lighten up ye ponce, I’m only taking the piss.»

He whispered before letting him go.

«Oi, Liam! Get over ‘ere!»

One of his teammates shouted from across the pitch.

Liam lifted his arm in acknowledgment before turning one last time towards Damon.

«See you on the field. Break your leg! Well, not literally of course, that’d be unfortunate… for you at least!»

He walked off sneering and scratching his nose in a way that suggested he may have been using harder stuff than Gatorade to boost himself up for the game.

Once Liam left, Damon felt like he was finally able to breathe again.

The Gallagher brothers had a way of making him feel like he was still a kid being bullied at school by his tougher classmates and the fact that in the past year Oasis had also managed to dethrone Blur as the biggest band in Britain did not help.

Still, dealing with Liam was feasible. He was a yob, but at least you knew what to expect from him.  
Noel, on the other hand…  
He’d apologised for wishing AIDS upon him and Alex, but that didn’t make those comments any less vile.  
Damon had no desire of seeing him and, when they’d told him he wouldn’t be at the game, he’d felt more relieved than he liked to admit.

He joined his teammates for a quick chat about the best winning strategies to follow but, while he saw that match as nothing more than an opportunity to support a good cause while also gaining some positive media coverage (God knows he needed that at the moment), some of his teammates were surprisingly competitive.  
He listened without really paying attention as the drummer from some second-rate band he’d barely heard of listed what would be the most effective moves to score as many goals as possible in the shortest amount of time.

«Come on boys, let’s kick some arse!»

He then shouted as he pushed for a team hug.  
Damon rolled his eyes but reluctantly went along with it.

Then the referee blew his whistle and the game was on.

It took Damon less than twenty minutes to realise the inevitable.  
No one knew what the fuck they were doing.

After running aimlessly for what felt like an eternity, the ball reached his area and he managed a good pass which was however wasted on the next player, who lost it immediately after.  
Damon swore under his breath.

«Oi oi, what was that? Language, Albarn! There’s children watching!»

Liam appeared beside him, trotting along with his unmistakable grin.

«Stop thinking about me and focus on the ball.»

«Is that what you say to your bird?»

Damon stopped.  
He found himself clenching his fist, wishing he could land it with impunity on Liam’s face.

«Careful, Gallagher.»

He warned, trying to sound threatening yet cold at the same time.

Liam stepped up to him and leaned with his full weight against his shoulder, his hand lightly pressed against Damon’s chest.

«You’re the one who has to be careful, Albarn.»

He whispered, his eyes weirdly fixed on Damon’s mouth.

«People have been on your case lately, haven’t they? Watching your every move, waiting for you to misbehave…»

He paused and Damon found himself holding his breath.

«… you’re not king of the turf anymore. You’re past your prime. If I punched you right now, I bet most people here would praise me.»

Damon was ready to spit some venom of his own at him, but then there were some loud cheers and suddenly one of his teammates ran up to them, enveloping Damon in a bear hug and almost drop-kicking Liam to the ground.

«Did you see that?! Did you fucking see that?! Pure class, that was! First score of the day, and it won’t be the last! Take _that,_ Gallagher!»

He yelled, before letting go of Damon and running away.

He looked at Liam, and now it was his turn to smirk.

«Sorry, were you saying something?»

* * * 

Damon was showering with his eyes closed, hot water dripping on his face and down his body, washing the strain away.  
His team had ended up winning 2-0, but not thanks to him. 

He could feel a big bruise was starting to form on his left calf, where Liam had tackled him. He bent down, grimacing in pain and rubbing the area as gently as he could.

After they had scored their first goal, Liam had become even more belligerent.  
He couldn’t stand the idea of losing, especially against Damon. He knew Noel would later make fun of him for it, so that pushed him to get more involved in the game, and in his mind that meant kicking people’s shins instead of the ball.  
That had earned him two yellow cards, the last of which had led to a penalty being given to Damon’s team and was shortly followed by their second, final goal.

Damon reopened his eyes with a sigh, before turning the water off.  
All his former teammates had already left and he was alone in the locker room.  
He liked to take his time when he was showering but he was also hoping that, by staying there longer than everybody else, he would be spared the inevitable barrage of journos eager to get some soundbites out of him, which would then get misreported on tomorrow’s tabloids and used as further ammo to consolidate his current reputation as Media Enemy n°1.

He walked out of the shower, water dripping down onto the floor’s white tiles. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist. He then grabbed another, smaller towel and used it to dry his hair off. He stuffed his sweaty football kit into his gym bag and went back to his civilian clothes, sliding his jeans and blue shirt over his still-damp body.  
Suddenly, he was anxious to get out. It was late afternoon and through the small window he could see the sky had turned dark while he’d been there.  
Justine was no doubt waiting for him at home. He missed her.

He put his bag over his shoulder, walked towards the door and quickly checked he’d collected all of his belongings before opening it.

«… what are you doing here?»

Liam was standing in front of him, leaning with his back against the wall and his hands in his pockets, a lit cigarette between his lips in spite of the large NO SMOKING sign placed right above his head.

«Can you read, Gallagher? You cannot smoke here.»

Liam took the cigarette out of his mouth and nonchalantly threw it on the ground before putting it out with the heel of his shoe.  
Damon noticed a few other cigarette butts at his feet, which could only mean he had been there for quite some time, waiting… _for him?_

«Is that better?»

Liam asked.

«Yeah. It would be even better if you answered my question, though.»

Liam was looking at him with defiance and Damon found himself clenching his jaw.

«I asked you what are you _doing…?_»

Before Damon had the chance to repeat himself, Liam walked up to him, filling the space between them. 

Being shorter than Damon, he had to lift his head to be able to look him in the eyes.

«Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?»

Liam’s tone was thick and husky as his hand brushed against Damon’s chest and up until he found his necklace, which he then wrapped around his fingers, pulling Damon’s mouth alarmingly close to his.  
Damon’s back was pressed against the door and even though he was physically bigger than Liam and could therefore just push him away, he found himself completely frozen.  
He felt like a cobra being hypnotised, his eyes fixed on Liam’s lips.

«Get off me.»

He finally managed to whisper.

Liam let go of his beads, but his hand was still lingering on Damon’s neck.

«Doesn’t sound like you really want me to, Albarn.»

«You don’t know what I want, Gallagher.»

«Maybe… but _you_ don’t, either.»

There was a pause as the reality of Liam’s words sank in.

«If you were really so sure of who you are, you’d have punched me in the face already.»

He then added, his tone now softer.

«I’m not a hooligan like you.»

«Yeah, I know you don’t like hooligans, we’re too manly for you. You prefer sissies like that guitarist of yours.»

Damon clenched his fists as a sudden wave of anger enveloped him.

«Don’t you fucking _dare_ mentioning Graham, he’s-»

He was interrupted by Liam’s lips being roughly pressed against his.

Liam pushed his tongue inside Damon’s mouth while grabbing the collar of his shirt.  
Damon lifted his hands and put them on top of Liam’s. He meant to extricate himself from his grip, but then Liam bit on his lower lip and he let out an unexpected moan as his knees buckled and his gym bag slid right off his shoulder and onto the ground with a thud.

«The door...»

Liam mumbled, his mouth now on his neck.  
And Damon found himself obeying, feeling blindly for the handle and then pushing it, stumbling back into the locker room with Liam’s body still glued to his, closing the door right back behind them. 

They broke away from each other, sizing each other up.

«Now what?»

Damon finally asked, catching his breath.

Liam smirked.

«I don’t know, you tell me.»

«You’re the one who asked me to open the door!»

«Yeah, but I wasn’t putting a gun to your head, was I?»

Now it was Damon’s turn to walk up to Liam, pushing him furiously against the wall.

«Listen up, you fucking prick… I won’t be made a fool by a mug like you, so either you tell me what you want from me, or you get the _fuck_ out of my face.»

Liam burst into one of his hoarse laughs.

«Wow, you’ve really worked yourself up into a frenzy, haven’t you?»

«You’re playing with fire, Gallagher.»

Damon grunted.  
His patience was now wearing thin and it looked as if even Liam had realised that, because he turned suddenly serious.

He lifted his hand and placed it gently upon Damon’s cheek, his fingers brushing against the blonde’s light stubble.

«I’m not a puff, you know?»

He mumbled, almost as if he was trying to convince himself more than anybody else.

«You sure have a weird way of proving it.»

Damon retorted.  
He meant to sound biting, but Liam’s hand on his face had a soothing effect that made his tone much more mellow than he’d intended it to be.

«Last year, everyone loved you. This year, everyone hates you, but you still look the same. You’re still...»

Damon couldn’t help but smile.

«Bloody gorgeous?»

«Don’t flatter yourself. You’re alright. For a man.»

«You’re not too bad yourself, Gallagher. Especially when you shut up.»

Liam raised his eyebrows.

«You want me to shut up?»

He enquired.

«That’d be nice.»

Damon replied, still smiling.

Liam reverted to grabbing Damon’s collar, reversing their position so that now he was once again the one backed against the wall. 

«Make me, then.»

He growled, his mouth an inch away from Damon’s.

***

«Fuck, you’re good...»

Damon moaned.  
His hand was firmly planted on Liam’s head, which was bobbing between his legs.  
With his eyes closed, he could almost imagine it was Justine down there.

Liam made a gargling sound as he took more of Damon’s length in. 

«Careful not to choke, Gallagher. That’d be a weird one to explain to the coroner.»

Liam’s head came up, glaring at Damon.

«Shut the fuck up Albarn, you’re not that big.»

«Really? But how do you know? You said you didn’t have any exper- _ooh fuck!_»

Liam was going faster, his tongue darting all over Damon’s shaft.  
His knees buckled as he strengthened his grip on Liam’s hair.

«Are you close?»

Liam asked, just as Damon opened his eyes to meet his.

«God yes… please...»

At that point, Liam stopped and stood back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Damon looked at him with a mixture of confusion and frustration.

«Why did you..?»

As a response, Liam unfastened his belt, unzipping his trousers and then pulling them down, along with his pants.  
He was hard.  
He was also quite well-endowed, but Damon thought better of saying it out loud.

Liam grabbed Damon’s hand and put it between his legs. 

Noticing Damon’s shocked expression, he sneered.

«You seriously thought you’d get off scot-free?»

Damon shook his head with a defeated smile.

«And here I thought you were doing this out of the goodness of your heart...»

«Dream on, princess.»

Damon’s face turned resolute and he stared straight into Liam’s eyes as he started to gently but skillfully stroke his cock.

«They say all is fair in love and war...»

He then said, somewhat pensive.

«I’m not in love with you, Albarn, you fucking narcissist.»

Liam retorted as he spat on his own hand before placing it on Damon’s cock, trying to match his rhythm.

«I’m not saying you are and to be clear, I’m not in love with you either. But people in the media definitely think we are at war.»

«So? Who gives a fuck about what they think!»

«The point is… what would they think if they saw us now? Would they think we’ve made up?»

Liam’s hand stopped moving and Damon groaned with impatience.

«You thinking of going to the papers?»

He asked, a clear edge in his voice.

Damon laughed.

«I could, but let’s face it… no one would ever believe me!»

He got a hold of Liam’s hand, putting it back where it was.

«And now… don’t you fucking dare stopping again.»

Their rhythms had now synchronised and they kept stroking each other’s cocks while staring into each other’s eyes, their shallow breathing the only sound now discernible in the locker room.

Feeling himself getting closer to the edge, Damon grabbed Liam’s head and kissed him as his strokes got faster.

Liam moaned loudly, kissing him back with such voracity that their teeth collided.

«Are you close?»

Damon asked as he came back for air.

Liam nodded, his eyes now shut.

Damon felt his knees were about to give away, so he grabbed Liam’s head again.

«Look at me.»

He demanded.

«Don’t tell me what to- _oooh, fucking hell!_»

As Liam’s eyes snapped open, they spilled into each other’s hands.

They broke away from each other and there was silence for several minutes, as they both tried to regain their composure.

Being far less contemplative than Damon, Liam was the first one to succeed.  
He pulled his trousers back up and went up to one of the sinks, washing his hands and then splashing his face with cold water.

He then turned towards Damon, who still had his back pressed against the wall and his trousers down to his ankles, his limp cock still dripping with cum and his eyes clouded.

«I’ll be off now, the missus’s waiting. It’s been almost a pleasure, Albarn!»

That comment was exactly what Damon needed to snap back out of it.

«Hey, what d’you mean _almost?_ We both-»

Liam shook his hand in a dismissive gesture.

«Y’know what I meant.»

«We’re back to square one, then?»

Damon asked, talking about their on-going feud on the country’s tabloids.

Liam shrugged.

«You should talk to my brother about that.»

«So what you’re saying is… I wanked off the wrong Gallagher?»

«Don’t be fucking rude, Albarn. I bet that was the best fucking handjob you’ve ever had. I have a cock, I should know.»

«You’re also one.»

«What?»

«Nothing. Go back to your wife, Liam.»

«See you around, princess.»

Crowned Liam, putting a cigarette in his mouth before pushing the locker room’s door open and swaggering away.

Once alone, Damon sighed.

Might as well take another shower.


End file.
